


in you is a world of promise

by pinkariess (lovelcce)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sick Iwaizumi Hajime, Sickfic, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelcce/pseuds/pinkariess
Summary: It isn’t a surprise when Iwaizumi Hajime collapses during practise, his knees clacking hollowly against the court.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 36





	in you is a world of promise

Iwaizumi Hajime doesn’t listen at the doctor’s, at least not anymore. Prefers to spend appointments staring blankly out a frosted window, catching snippets of diagnosis and scripted consolation. Spends class periods blankly staring at his textbook, ignoring the glances of classmates who think he’ll drop dead any minute now. Family dinners where his parents watch him, hoping to memorize their son while the clock ticks behind him. Nights, as his mother cries, and his father stands in the kitchen with a mug of cold coffee Iwaizumi wants to break against a wall. 

It’s only warm afternoons, as the sun paints orange and pink against Oikawa’s skin, the two of them knocking their knees together after a long practise. Then Iwaizumi lets go, smiles as the other boy complains about his serve or the set Iwaizumi missed. It’s easy, to pretend in that moment, that they’re okay. That Iwaizumi’s grip against Oikawa’s collar isn’t shaking as they press their lips together so painstakingly slow.

“Brazil’s a long way away.” Iwaizumi says, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder, ignores the way the other boy’s breath catches.

“We have phones.”

“Right.”

“You’re gonna miss me, Iwa-chan?”

“Shut up, asshole-kawa.”

It isn’t a surprise when Iwaizumi Hajime collapses during practise, his knees clacking hollowly against the court. There’s panic on his teammate’s faces, though something worse in their eyes as he pointedly refuses to make eye contact. It’s Oikawa, always smiling that stupid smile that sends warmth through Iwaizumi’s nerves, who crouches next to him. A soft question of taking a break, as if Iwaizumi Hajime has ever been fragile. The spiker flicks at Oikawa’s forehead, almost too soft to cause any pain, curses at him with an empty heat that dulls the smile on the setter’s face.

“I’m not broken, shitty-kawa.” Iwaizumi says, pushes himself onto unsteady feet. Still pointedly not looking at anyone else.

“I’m offended you’d think I’d be subtle about something like that. You’re a big boy, so I’d tell you outright.” Oikawa wraps an arm around the spiker’s shoulders, a reminder of just how much taller the setter had grown over the years. “Just take a break, I’d hate to see you broken.”

  
  


It’s almost funny, Iwaizumi Hajime thinks, laying in a hospital bed and memorizing the way Oikawa’s hair tangles as he drools in his sleep. He’s spent so long caring after his friend, his love, his Oikawa’s health, that it’d be him laying broken. 

“Iwa-Chan?” Oikawa says, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sits up.

“Yeah?” The spiker says, his voice hoarse.

“Just making sure.” 

“I know.”

The rest of the team is visiting, which is never a good sign. Even Iwaizumi’s parents are in the suddenly too small hospital room. All the machines are off, one of the nurses having wheeled out the heart monitor the day before to make space. The air, normally sterile and cool, feels thick and warm, clinging to Oikawa’s throat. It’s Kyotani -  _ since when has Kyotani been the emotionally intelligent one on the team _ \- who watches Oikawa with knowing eyes. They know, of course they all know. And it presses against Oikawa’s chest, squeezing tighter than any hug he’d ever received. 

“I forgot something at home.” He says, breaking the silence as everyone looks at him. He’s already standing somehow, his head light and his shoes filled with lead. 

Oikawa presses his lips, dry and cracked against Iwaizumi’s forehead, exhales shakily. “I’ll be back.”

“I love you.”

Toru Oikawa pretends he doesn’t hear.

Toru Oikawa sits silently in his living room, the lights off and his phone on the table in front of him. He’s shivering, though he thinks he can hear the heater humming. Down the street, a car alarm blares for a moment, before silence relapses. The screen of his phone lights up, his mother’s contact appearing. The screen fades after five rings, only to be replaced by his father’s contact, and then the coach’s. Oikawa drops his head into his hands, closing his eyes against the brightness of his screen as it fills with notifications of texts and missed calls. His mother calls three more times before seeming to give up, instead sending her message over text. She’s always been a practical woman, knows her son would ignore any condolences, instead sending a simple four character message.  _ 8:19 _ . 

It’s funny, how Oikawa thought he’d always be the broken one. How his truths became lies, and his lies became lies. 

His heart shatters. 


End file.
